


A Lady's Favour

by rosejelly



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, featuring cecilia beck, modern day knight!Ava, renaissance fair fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosejelly/pseuds/rosejelly
Summary: Unit Bravo goes undercover at a Renaissance Fair (really, it's just an excuse for Farah to have fun on the job and for Nat to add more vintage pieces to her enormous stash of things)Also an excuse to see modern day Knight!Ava.feat. ladyelori's pretty little detective, Cecilia Beck
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	A Lady's Favour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyelori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyelori/gifts).



> happy happy birthday! :) thank you for carrying the wlw wayhaven fans on your back for so long, you're a joy to talk to and an absolute doll.  
> here's a lil something in return, my apologies for not doing your detective justice! i hope you'll like it. :)

“I’m not doing undercover again,” Morgan complains, lips curled in disgust around her cigarette. “Count me out of this carnival shtick.” 

“It’s not a carnival, Morgan,” Nat says patiently. “It’s a renaissance fair.” 

“Is it filled with humans?” 

“Yes?”  
  
“Same thing.” Morgan curls up in her corner, sulking. 

“Not the same thing,” Farah blurts, eyes shining, “we get to dress up! In old timey costumes and everything! Right, Nat?”  
  
Nat tries not to wince at Farah’s choice of words, tilting her head. “Yes, I suppose so.”  
  
Ava huffs. “This is a mission, not a game.” She frowns at Farah’s eager bouncing, but it does little to settle her. “I don’t see why everyone has to go. The fae we’ve been trailing seems tame so far.”  
  
“I’d love to go,” Cecilia sighs wistfully, chin propped on her fist, “I miss playing dress up as a kid.” 

“Like I said, this is not a game-” Ava starts, but Farah interjects excitedly with, “I guess it’s just you and me, huh Cecilia?”  
  
The two exchange a mischievous glance, and Ava stiffens, her gaze darting between them warily. Cecilia can tell the gears are turning in Ava’s head, weighing the pros and cons of letting them both right into the heart of the enemy, and she bites down her amused smile. 

Nothing she does flies past Ava, however, and green eyes narrow warningly. 

“Fine.”  
  
“Yes!” Farah punches the air excitedly. 

“I’ll be coming along too.” Farah falters, and before she can open her mouth, Nat quickly cuts in.  
  
“Actually, I’ve been wanting to go too. I’ve heard they’re setting up an antiques store with an actual tea set from the Elizabethan era-”  
  
“This is _not_ a fun trip!” Ava cries, aghast. Farah snickers. 

“Not with you there.” She reaches out to receive a high-five from Cecilia, but Nat smacks her hand away quickly. 

“You guys have fun,” Morgan says snidely, cigarette dangling from her lips as she smirks. “I’ll wait here.”  
  
“You’re coming too.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
Ava rolls her eyes at Morgan’s indignant squawk. “If we encounter the fae, you’re the only one sensitive enough to see through her defensive magic.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Ava and Morgan glare at each other, before Farah cheers.  
  
“Yay, family outing!”  
  
_“This is not an outing!”_   
  


* * *

  
Everyone’s decked out in borrowed renaissance clothing, except for Ava, who is standing there staunchly in her plain grey peacoat, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the colourful crowd. She comes only second to Morgan, who has wrapped her thick wool cloak so tightly around herself she looks like a burgundy burrito, her grumpy face sticking out of the hood, glaring at anyone who dares to even look her way. 

Cecilia and Farah have entwined their hands together, whirling round and round in a tight circle on a patch of grass, laughing as their peasant skirts fly dramatically, twisting together in burnt red and light brown. Nat gazes at them bemusedly, looking sleek and elegant in her simple blue day dress, her brown waves twisted up into a pretty chignon. 

“We’ll split into teams. Nat, you take Morgan with you.” She pauses as Cecilia and Farah cling to each other, staring at her beseechingly. She relents with a sigh. “You two, with me.” 

“Can we get an iced tea? Ooh, that store looks good!” Cecilia is off in a second, Farah following closely on her heels, curious amber eyes sparkling.  
  
Ava stares disbelievingly as they disappear into the crowd without her. Nat slides up next to her to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly before she leaves too, dragging the rolled up vampire behind her. 

Ava tilts her head back, eyes shut as she tries not to growl, and stalks after them quickly.   
  


* * *

Surprisingly, the only other supernatural they bump into is Tane, the werewolf from Unit Alpha. He spots Farah and Cecilia first, lifting a hand in an excited wave, almost battering into the people around him with his bulk and broad shoulders. 

Farah lets out one excited whoop, and Cecilia immediately glances back at Ava, whose features have been scrunched up so tight she looks like she swallowed a lemon. 

“Can’t believe they let boring people in here,” he snarks, his grin bright and blinding. Ava turns sharply, unwilling to give him the time of the day, and Farah whines. 

_“Hey,”_ she sulks, but brightens as soon as Tane nudges her playfully. “I don’t mean you, of course,” he smiles, and gives Cecilia a wink to let her know she’s included too. 

Ava stiffens even more, but Cecilia is already pressing forward, curiously examining the well-crafted metal shoulder guards he has on, and the clanky metal boots. 

“Cool outfit,” she compliments genuinely, and Tane glances down.  
  
“Yeah? There’s just a sword-fighting tournament going on in about ten minutes. It’s pretty much the highlight of the festival.” He tilts his head, looking very much like a shaggy dog. “You guys wanna watch?”  
  
“A supernatural fighting against humans?” Ava scoffs. “Hardly an honourable win.”  
  
“It requires actual skill to hold back your strength and _look_ like you’re trying your best, not that you would know.” Tane crosses his thick arms, looking over her with a sly smile. “Unless, of course, you _don’t_ know.” 

Cecilia swears Ava’s icy glare could have refrozen the melting ice in her drink. 

“Not much fun sparring against humans, though.” Tane’s brows wriggle suggestively, his arms coming to wrap casually around Farah and Cecilia’s shoulders. A muscle in Ava’s jaw twitches at that, her hands already itching to pull them apart. “Whadya say, Commanding Agent du Mortain? You’ve always wanted a good excuse to pummel us wolves to the ground, eh?”  
  
Ava’s eyes glint, taking the bait. 

“One round.” She yanks Farah and Cecilia out from under his grasp, tucking Cecilia against her firmly. Farah and Tane exchange a gleeful look at the action. “Don’t regret eating dust, dog.”  
  
Tane whoops, fired up. “Only if ya don’t bore me, du Mortain.”   
  


* * *

  
Cecilia and Farah are sitting in the stands, close to the corner of the square but hidden safely out of sight. The empty straw makes a loud slurping noise as she sucks on it, fingers tapping restlessly against the wet plastic. 

“Worried for Ava?”  
  
Cecilia pauses. “Nah.” She eyes the crowded stands, and remembers Ava lifting a giant tree, in full sight of the public, just to impress her. “Maybe if she goes a little too far.” 

“Oh, I’m planning on seeing that,” Farah grins. “There she is!”  
  
Cecilia turns to look, and almost chokes when she inhales so hard she hoovers up a piece of ice. 

Ava strides across the square, broad shoulders covered by steel shoulder guards, knee guards and steel boots clinking as she walks, helmet tucked under one arm. The crimson tabard she wears under all that metal only highlights the sharpness of her light green eyes, piercing and cold. 

She looks like she was made to wear the armour, and even Tane whistles, impressed. 

Ava’s eyes find her immediately, and Cecilia has never felt so intensely gripped by Ava’s stare. 

She walks right to the edge, leans against the barrier separating the stand from the square, and crooks her fingers in a come-hither motion. 

Cecilia stands before she realises, drifting towards Ava, drawn into her orbit. 

“Before we begin,” Ava intones, and her voice is low and soft, like silk, “it is customary to ask for a lady’s favour.” 

“Anything,” Cecilia breathes, and Ava raises her brow. Tane bursts out laughing. 

“Not a literal favour,” Tane chuckles. “It’s just a good luck thing. Anything you can give is fine.”  
  
“I…” Cecilia looks down at her traditional dress. “I don’t have anything.” 

When she looks up, Ava is inches from her, her hand reaching up to graze past her jawline, up into her hair. She fiddles with something, and comes back with Cecilia’s red scrunchie in her leather-gloved hand. Cecilia only registers it’s gone when her hair falls softly around her face, undone. 

“May I have this?” Ava holds it up, and she only just manages to nod. There’s a flicker of a smile on Ava’s face, and she leans back, tucking the scrunched red cloth carefully into her breastplate, next to her heart. 

“I’ll make sure to return it when I win.” Ava slides the helmet on, and Tane splutters at her words.

“Hey, if it’s a good luck charm, I think Tane should have it,” Farah chirps. It’s Tane’s turn to whine this time, looking offended. Farah shrugs. “I’m just sayin’.” 

“Get your own favour,” is all Ava says before she walks away. Cecilia doesn’t remember to move until Farah tugs her back into the stands.   
  


* * *

  
Unsurprisingly, Ava does not go easy on him. 

She grips the heavy wooden sword, which really looks like a long bat, the ends cast in rubber for safety. Still, it looks no less intimidating when she lifts it, stance low, blade raised to her chin. 

Tane charges at her, brash and powerful. Ava, on the other hand, is still and calculative, waiting. 

She sidesteps him at the last moment as he tries to crash into her, his sword smashing into the ground where she stood. She lifts her arm smoothly, and the hilt goes crashing down onto the back of his helmet, a thunderous clang the only thing showing how much strength Ava put into it. 

The crowd gasps as Tane stumbles, but he miraculously rights himself up, eyes shining with glee at a real fight. If Tane were a human, he would have probably never gotten up again. 

He charges again, and this time Ava takes his blunt force fully, their blades smashing together, metal clanking as they pull apart, trying to aim for each other’s weak spots. They move together in a blur, so smooth and rapid that Cecilia is having a hard time catching up. The bulky armour they wear hardly seems to restrict their movement at all. 

It ends in about three minutes, but to Cecilia, it felt like an hour.  
  
Ava’s got him (literally) biting dust, face down, her foot pressed into the small of his back, sword flush against his neck. Tane groans, hands slapping the floor as he concedes his defeat. 

Ava pulls off the helmet as the crowd roars, braid unravelling messily, her lips flushed pink and parted with exertion. 

She immediately looks for Cecilia, catching her wide-eyed expression, and she can’t help the slow, pleased smirk that spreads across her face. Ava waves away the prize she could care less about winning, hungry eyes trained on her like she knows where the real spoils of the battle are. She makes an easy vault over the barrier, sand and dust trailing from her boots, and presses right into Cecilia’s personal space. 

She pulls out the red scrunchie, still safely tucked in her breastplate (no wonder Ava was favouring her left side instead of her right) and grabs Cecilia’s hand, pressing the scrunchie back into her palm. Her gloved hands gently guide Cecilia’s fingers to close over it, then she flips her hand over and lifts it to her mouth, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to it.

“As promised,” she whispers, her hot breath ghosting over Cecilia’s knuckles. Cecilia tries to contain the hot flush spreading down to her neck, but Ava’s eyes follow it, smug.   
  


* * *

  
In the privacy of their dressing room, Cecilia is supposed to be helping Ava out of her armour. 

Somehow, she’s the one who’s being slowly coaxed out of her clothes, Ava pressing her into the wall, leaving a line of hot, ravenous kisses down her neck, trying to slide her dress off her shoulder so there’s more of Cecilia to drag her tongue over. 

She grips Ava’s shoulder guards, pushing her back, but she’s an immovable brick wall. 

“Ava,” she pants. “Farah and Tane are going to wonder where we are.” 

Ava slips a hand under Cecilia’s skirt, pulling her thigh up to wind around Ava’s waist so that Ava can press closer to her.  
  
“If they’re wondering,” Ava murmurs against her flushed skin, and Cecilia tries not to shiver at the soft vibration rolling through her, “they’re stupid.”  
  
_“Ava,”_ Cecilia laughs, almost admonishingly, before biting back a moan when Ava scrapes her teeth over her collarbones, her large hand kneading Cecilia’s thigh greedily.  
  
“May I ask the lady for one more favour?” Ava rumbles, kissing her jaw sweetly as she lifts her head to meet Cecilia’s eyes. Cecilia cups Ava’s face in her hands, and Ava nuzzles into them. 

“What is it?”  
  
Ava gives a crooked smile, roguish and handsome, and lifts Cecilia off the floor, pinning her against the wall, her legs dangling in the air helplessly. She breaks out into a breathless giggle, and Ava’s eyes soften at the sound of it, tenderly stealing kiss after kiss from her smiling mouth. 

Cecilia wraps herself around Ava, and lets her knight devour her, claiming the favour she asked for. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> come talk to me @rosejellyy


End file.
